


No Holding Back

by aralias



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Baz tops, Biting, Bondage, Dubious Consent, M/M, Vampires, Watford Seventh Year
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-15 00:33:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29427465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aralias/pseuds/aralias
Summary: "I went to sleep covered in blood. When I wake up, someone is licking it off me."A magic amulet makes Baz act on his repressed instincts.
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 28
Kudos: 107





	No Holding Back

**Author's Note:**

  * For [it_is_twelve](https://archiveofourown.org/users/it_is_twelve/gifts).



> This is not what I would have written for you, Twelve, if I had more time! It gets pretty angsty, but you said you wanted more dubcon in this fandom, and that means angst. 
> 
> For everyone else, please take note of the warning. 
> 
> CONSENT IS EXTREMELY DUBIOUS.
> 
> Until it isn't.
> 
> \--
> 
> Thank you, again, to [OtherWorldsIveLivedIn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OtherWorldsIveLivedIn) for betaing.

## No Holding Back

**SIMON**

I went to sleep covered in blood. When I wake up, someone is licking it off me.

It’s still mostly dark. The sun’s starting to rise – letting in a bit of pale light through a crack in the curtains – and something’s glowing on the floor, but otherwise it’s grey and fuzzy.

It takes me a while to realise that it’s really happening, because I’m fairly sure I’ve had dreams like this before.

Coming back from battle, exhausted. (Not that this _was_ really a battle, in the end. I just got cut up on the way out of the cave and Penny’s magic was drained so she couldn’t patch me up like she usually does.) Crawling into bed and having someone softly tend to my wounds and tell me I did well.

I like being looked after. It rarely happens, so I fantasise about it a lot. Not usually this vividly, though. And they aren’t always sex dreams, like this one seems to be, although that has happened. I have to hide the mess from Baz in the morning.

This is definitely one of those nights.

I’m hard and twitching already. Gentle hands tug me out of my pyjama bottoms and a wet mouth sinks down onto my cock and sucks.

I groan and reach down, fisting one of my hands in thick, silky hair.

It feels like I’ve always imagined it would. I suppose that’s obvious – this _is_ my imagination – but actually the blowjob doesn’t.

It’s wetter. Softer. ( _Less like my hand_ , a more awake part of my brain tries to suggest before I ignore it.) There’s a harsh scrape of teeth sometimes when he gets it wrong and I can hear him panting.

“ _Baz_ ,” I groan.

The blowjob falters.

Shit. I guess that was weird. Even my subconscious thinks so.

My brain is still waking up, so I look over to Baz’s bed to check he didn’t hear that. I’m not sure what I’ll do if he did (I don’t even know why I said it), but if he didn’t, I can get back to my dream.

What I can see of the bed looks empty. That’s good.

Or at least I think it is, until the mouth on my cock pulls away completely. I blink down and see Baz crouching between my legs in his own pyjamas, his lips shiny in the dark. Wet with the same spit that’s all over my cock.

I don’t know what’s going on.

This can’t be real.

Baz wouldn’t …

 _I_ wouldn’t …

“ _Baz_ …” I begin, but he’s already moving; leaning over the side of the bed and grabbing something from the floor.

It’s a pair of handcuffs. I realise that as he slaps one of them round my right wrist, pushes my arm up, and cuffs me to the top of the bed. Worse, they’re _my_ handcuffs. The Mage gave them to me last night before he sent me out on this stupid mission to retrieve another magickal amulet. (This one is a confidence-booster. Lowers your inhibitions. Supposedly this will help me achieve my full potential since the Mage thinks I’m holding myself back. Too afraid of my own power.)

I left the handcuffs on the floor in my bag before passing out. They were supposed to be able to hold back a minotaur _or_ a fright-watchman, since the Mage wasn’t sure what would be guarding it (minotaur), which means I have less than no chance of getting out of them now.

I jerk my arm pointlessly, anyway. “Baz. What the hell?”

And then Baz is on me again. Not my cock this time – he’s higher up, leaning over me. Ripping my cross off before kissing me roughly (with the tongue he just had on my cock), like he wants something from me.

I try and push him off with my free hand, but Baz is much stronger than me. He catches my wrist and holds it down.

“Don’t fight it, Snow.”

But I can’t _not._

I’m awake now – properly awake – and I can’t let him get away with this, even though I still have no idea what’s going on. (Besides the obvious. Baz has his tongue in my mouth. Baz is kissing me, pressing me down into the bed with his hips.)

“Please. I want you so much,” he whispers against my lips. (It’s like he’s drunk, which I haven’t seen since fifth year. Baz doesn’t like to drink. But Baz would never say something like this to me sober. He’d never _do_ anything like this.) “Crowley, Simon, I need you. Let me have this.”

I jerk and twist my body beneath him, trying to throw him off without success. If anything, it’s making things _worse_. We’re both hard (me from earlier, when I didn’t know it was him) and moving around like this brings us into more contact. I’m trying to get free, but I’m also rubbing myself off against the cleft of his arse.

Baz pushes back. I groan into his mouth – because the pressure feels good. Even though it’s him. Even though this is all so wrong and weird.

“That’s what you want, is it?” Baz asks breathlessly.

He doesn’t let me answer. (Because he knows I’d _have_ to tell him that I don’t. I don’t want any of this. We’re enemies. And I’m not into boys. Or vampires. I like Agatha.) (Fuck. I _knew_ Baz was a vampire. I told everyone. And now I have proof – he was licking my blood, earlier.)

He just keeps kissing me, though now the hand that isn’t pressing down on my wrist is unbuttoning his own pyjama shirt.

I kiss him back – to try and distract him and because I’m fed up of not taking the lead.

It works better than I expected. Baz sighs into my mouth and lets go of my hand to cup my face. He’s got his shirt half off one shoulder now and I help him tug it off, because I figure that’s even _more_ distracting. Beneath it, his skin is soft and cool, the muscles in his back rippling under my hand as he moves.

Just as I’m about to make my bid for freedom (whatever that is) (I don’t know yet, but I’m good at improvising), he tugs away and sits back. 

“Don’t worry. I plan on making it very good for you, Snow,” Baz promises breathlessly.

He’s pulling his trousers off now. And I know I shouldn’t, but – well, I look. I can’t help it.

And then – fuck – I’m looking at Baz’s cock.

His very _hard_ cock. His balls. His pubic hair. His thighs.

Merlin, I’m looking at Baz naked. And aroused. My roommate. Naked. I’ve literally never even seen Baz’s chest before tonight. He always keeps himself covered. Always. And now I’m eye-to-eye with his erection. And it’s not _that_ dark, really – I can still see it really well.

“What the fuck,” I whimper.

“Shh,” Baz says.

He’s hunting for his wand, spelling both of us clean, and himself slick and open. (Fuck – _open_? Why does Baz need to be open?)

“Baz— I don’t understand.”

“You don’t need to,” Baz says hectically as he straddles me. “All you have to do is lie there. I’ll do the rest.”

I want to protest more, but Baz has taken my cock in his hand and it’s difficult to think. He raises his hips and tugs me towards him. I let him do it, because I’m worried about what will happen to that part of me, if I don’t. (I don’t want Baz to _break_ it.) Not because the damp slide of my foreskin against Baz’s arse feels incredible. (Although it does.) I almost cry as the head of my cock reaches the pucker of his hole and Baz pushes down onto me, using his strong thighs to bring me deeper into his body.

I can’t say I don’t know what’s happening anymore.

We’re having sex.

I’ve got my cock in Baz’s arse and we’re having _sex_.

I’ve never had sex before, and now I’m having sex with Baz – with _Baz –_ who is groaning and panting as he works himself on my cock.

“That’s good, Snow. That’s right, isn’t it?”

I shake my head.

It’s not. It’s wrong. So wrong. Even if it feels good.

Baz raises an eyebrow. “Harder?”

“No.” I flail at him with my free hand, trying to push him back. “Get off me.”

Baz’s jaw locks defensively before he decides to start fucking me harder anyway. I saw him spell himself looser, but it’s still so much tighter inside him than my hand or his mouth and I feel like I’m going to come any moment. _In Baz._

“Please,” I whimper. “You have to stop.”

“I don’t.”

“Baz, for Christ’s sake, I’ve got a _girlfriend_.”

I’m not sure why I went with that argument, rather than any of the other really obvious ones; like _‘we’re both boys’,_ or _‘you must be drunk because you hate me’_. Maybe because I’m not sure Baz _is_ drunk – I didn’t taste it when we were snogging. And the fact that I’m a boy doesn’t seem to be causing him any problems.

I could say, ‘ _You can’t just handcuff someone to a bed and expect them to have sex with you’,_ although right now, it feels like he _can_ actually do that.

But the Agatha thing is definitely, _definitely_ true.

“I’m not a cheater,” I tell him shakily. “And anyway, _you_ like her.”

He’s been trying to steal her away from me for years. Maybe this – what’s happening now – is some fucked up revenge for never having managed it. He’s trying to show me how good he could treat Agatha if I just broke up with her, but Baz is laughing. Somehow both hysterical _and_ cross.

“ _Crowley_.”

I grimace as he pulls himself off me – even though it’s what I wanted – then watch as he staggers towards his desk. His erection bobs as he walks. 

“Why would I like _Agatha?”_ Baz hisses as he scribbles something down on a page from his journal and then tears it off viciously. “She’s not good enough for you. She’s never appreciated you. And yet she has you. Well, not for long.”

“What?”

He doesn’t answer, just snatches up his wand before casting **A little bird told me** to bring a sparrow in from outside. The sparrow takes the note from his outstretched fingers and flies out through the window. Baz shut it – even though it’s boiling – and returns to the bed to kiss me again. 

At least, he tries to. I pull my head out the way.

“ _Baz_.”

“It’s all right, you don’t have a girlfriend anymore,” he says before pushing his tongue deep into my mouth. I shove him back.

“ _What_?”

“I broke up with her for you,” Baz says. One of his hands is wandering down my front again, passing my cock, going lower. “So, you can stop _wringing_ your hands about cheating.” I rattle the handcuff and he scoffs. “Metaphorically, wringing.”

He’s such an arse.

He’s also completely missing the point.

“That’s _not—_ ” I start hotly, but I have to stop when Baz spells more lubricant onto his hand and presses a fingertip firmly against my arsehole. My body resists him for a moment and then he’s pushed past it. I squeeze my eyes shut, gasping.

“ _Fuck_.”

Baz pushes a second finger in beside the first. He’s got long fingers – I’ve always been jealous of how elegant they are. They go deep. Bumping against somewhere that makes my brain explode, before he pulls them back and starts fucking me with them.

“You deserve so much better than _Agatha_ ,” he snarls as he pumps his fingers into me. “Someone who adores you. Who worships the ground you walk on. Who’ll be good to you. Who gives you everything you want – turn over now, Snow.”

I shudder and do it, my hand twisting in the cuff as I roll onto my stomach, my hard cock pressing into the mattress.

I know I shouldn’t. That nothing good can come of turning my back on Baz, but I’m overstimulated and confused and having some instructions to follow feels like a relief. Maybe he’s going to lick the blood off my back too...

“Good boy,” Baz says breathily as he tugs my pyjamas the rest of the way down. “Let me take care of you.”

I must be going mad because that sounds really nice right now.

Baz is strong and powerful. He could definitely protect me, if he wanted to.

He’s just _never_ wanted to, before. That’s why I try not to think about it.

I feel the fingers of his other hand slide under my hip, pulling my arse up towards him. I’m so out of it that I let him do it, but I don’t want Baz to know that I’m out of it, so I try and get some more words out.

“What’re you doing?”

“Well, you didn’t seem to like the other way around,” Baz says reasonably.

“Like what?”

And then I groan because I now _know_ what. (Christ, I’m so thick sometimes, Baz’s right.) There’s something blunt and wet nudging between my buttocks.

 _It’s Baz’s cock,_ I think to myself just before he pushes it into me in one long, self-assured stroke. 

It’s like nothing I’ve ever felt before. Even his fingers didn’t prepare me for it. A hard shot of pleasure dumped right into my brain, rippling through my body. This is what Baz meant. He’s taking care of me. Making me feel nice. My mouth drops open into a damp groan against the pillow.

I hear Baz behind me make a similar lost noise.

“Eight snakes. _Snow_.” He’s moving his hips now, fucking me in earnest, lighting more and more fires in my nerve endings. “Fuck. _Snow_. You feel so good. You’re so good.”

One of his hands leaves my hip and comes to wrap around my cock. He starts pumping it in time with his thrusts.

“Is it good for you?” he asks breathlessly. “Better?”

He’s got it all wrong.

I don’t know if it’s better than earlier when he was in my lap. It might be, but it’s not like that was _bad._ It was incredible. But Baz and I aren’t even friends, and he doesn’t even like me, and I still can’t shake the feeling that this shouldn’t be happening, even as I’m getting closer and closer to coming. Even though I’m now shoving myself back into him because it feels so good to have him do this to me. (I’ve wanted him to do this to me for ages, I’m realising. I’ve dreamt about it.)

My free hand is clawing behind me at his back; then higher, so I can grab his hair.

It feels like I’ve always imagined it would. Like it felt when I pushed my hand into it while he was blowing me.

“ _Fuck_ ,” I sob into my pillow, because I don’t know what else _to_ say.

“It’s all right,” Baz tells me. “I’ve got you now.” His voice is getting more ragged as we both get closer to orgasm. “And I can be so good to you, Simon. As good as you deserve. For always trying to save us. For being so brave, you glorious fuck. Crowley, you’re wonderful.”

I can’t breathe. I feel like Baz is torturing me with pleasure. Like this is how he’s chosen to kill me, after all. Suffocating me with a pillow while he drowns me in compliments and shags the life out of me.

I drop my arm, turning my head to the side and gulping in air as Baz starts telling me how good I smell. How he can’t get enough of me.

“I’m obsessed with you,” he grunts into my shoulder blade.

And that’s when I see it – the glow from my bag. The only light in the room that isn’t from outside. The Mage’s fucking amulet. Which I have with me, because he was asleep when Penny and I got back to school, and Penny didn’t want to risk Trixie finding it.

 _“She’s bad enough_ with _inhibitions, Simon!”_

I didn’t think Baz would find it. He doesn’t usually go through my stuff (it’s usually the other way round). But that’s it.

 _That’s_ why this is happening. Baz must have touched the amulet – somehow, after I fell asleep – and it did what it’s supposed to. Lowered his inhibitions. He’s not drunk. Or mad. Or getting revenge, or whatever else I thought it might be.

He just wanted this – _me_ – and usually he holds himself back. Denies himself. But he can’t do that now, so he’s just taking me. Letting himself have me.

I think Baz is in love with me. The way he thinks I should be loved.

I also think – and this is weird – that if Baz is under a spell from my amulet, then _I’m_ the one taking advantage of him. Even though _he’s_ the one who cuffed me to the bed.

It’s a shock.

All of it.

And it’s followed quickly by the shock of my orgasm (since Baz hasn’t stopped fucking me through these revelations) and then – an even bigger shock as Baz sinks his _teeth_ in my shoulder.

(Fangs, really. Long and vampiric, driving right through my muscle into my nerves.)

I’m gasping. Swearing. Clenching the fingers of my free hand in the sheets, but it doesn’t feel bad. It feels good, actually. Stupidly good. Even though Baz has probably killed me or Turned me, at least I went out feeling loved. It feels like sliding into a warm bath, like Baz pushing his fingers into me for the first time.

Honestly, if I hadn’t already come all over the sheets, this probably would have done it.

It _does_ finish Baz. He pushes deep into me and shudders, his hips still twitching for a bit, before he pulls himself out of me – fangs and cock – and collapses onto the bed. 

“You bit me,” I say accusingly. Trying to twist myself in the handcuff so I can look at Baz without falling off the bed.

He grins toothily at me. ( _Now_ he looks drunk. A drunk vampire.) (Fuck-drunk, maybe. Or drunk on my blood.) 

“I know – I’ve always wanted to.” He rolls towards me and kisses me. “I hope you don’t become a vampire, but I’ll still marry you if you do. We’ll go into hiding together.”

“We’re not getting _married,”_ I squeak.

Although I suddenly have a horrible fear that perhaps Baz thinks he has to marry me, now he’s taken my virginity, and he’s going to insist on it. Mages are like that – they’re honourable – but Baz just laughs and rolls into me.

“Not yet. We have eighth year – and lots of sex to have before then.” His hand snakes down to my crotch. “How long until you can go again, do you think?”

I have no idea. Not that it matters, because I _can’t_ have sex again with Baz while he’s like this. It’s not right. (Although not right for a different reason than the reason I thought it wasn’t right when we started this.)

I don’t think Baz is going to listen if I tell him that, though.

I rattle the handcuff against the bed. “What about letting me go before we do it again?”

Baz pouts. (He’s not going for it. There’s nothing in for him.)

“ _Or_ ,” I say, quickly, “you could be the one chained up this time. That’d be sexy.”

I don’t think I’d be able to trick him like this normally. If Baz wasn’t spelled, he’d probably see straight through me. But he must _really_ like the idea of being handcuffed because he’s already reaching over me for his wand.

“You’re right.”

He taps the wand against the cuff and it opens. I pull my hand free. Unsurprisingly, it’s gone to sleep a bit and I have to flex it as I move out the way for Baz, who closes the cuff around his own wrist. Once it’s done, he tilts his chin up towards me, like he’s asking for a kiss.

I don’t give it to him. I see him realise what that means and what it means when I push myself off the bed in search of something heavy. It’s a betrayal.

“ _Snow_ ,” he shouts after me.

“Sorry,” I say – and I am. I really am. “But I have to do this.”

And I bring our Magic Words textbook down hard on the amulet.

**BAZ**

It’s almost dawn.

Snow said he had to go and see the Mage, so he’s gone now. That seems cowardly of him – not what I’d expect of the Chosen One. But I think he would’ve stayed if I’d asked him to. If I’d wanted to talk it out immediately.

Instead, I shouted at him to fuck off and leave me alone. To never touch me again. To never look at me.

_“Just get out, Snow. Get out!”_

After that, he came up with the feeble excuse that if he didn’t go and see his mentor immediately, the Mage might come looking for him, which neither of us wanted. He took the broken amulet. He did not take the handcuffs, because I’m still wearing them.

Snow left me chained up, in his bed. (He brought the blankets over from mine – _“So you don’t get cold._ ” Bastard. As if that matters.)

I’m not sure if he did it because he thinks I might off myself from shame when left alone, or if he just doesn’t want me to escape. He knows I’m a vampire now – he’s probably gone to report me. Unless he’s realised that I’ve probably Turned him and that, if he tells everyone what I am, I could easily tell on him, too. (I wouldn’t. I’d keep his secret, I’d take it to my grave.) (Snow doesn’t know that, though. He has no reason to trust me.)

Not that I think a little thing like being cast out of the World of Mages would stop Simon Snow. He’s probably admitting everything to the Mage right now. Throwing himself on his sword. (Metaphorically speaking.)

I should probably try and escape before he brings the Mage’s Men here to take me away. It wouldn’t be too difficult, despite Snow’s precautions. The cuffs are spelled to keep me in, but I could probably rip them through the headboard. Normally, I try and hide my strength, but it’s too late now.

I’d do it, if I could think of anywhere to go. And if I could muster the energy to do more than wallow in self-disgust.

Ending it all sounds far more appealing. And is also entirely possible. (How does Snow defeat so many monsters? He’s left so many loopholes). There’s nothing sharp nearby except my fangs and Snow’s taken my wand, but I can cast fire without it. True, I’ve never done it in front of him (I wanted to wait for exactly the right moment. When it would impress him the most. When I could see his jaw _drop)_ but he knows I’m a Pitch. He could have guessed I’d be capable of it. If he cared.

But why should he care about the vampire who sexually assaulted him? We’ve always been enemies. This was always going to end with me dead, and now I’ve given him another reason I deserve it.

He should want me to do it. It would save him the effort of killing me himself.

I let a flame kindle in my free hand. Just to check I still can. That it’s still an option. Just a small flame, but enough to destroy me if I thrust it against my broken heart. I could do it. Then Snow would come back and find his bed covered in ash.

It might make him think better of me. To know how deeply I hate myself too. To know I was sorry. (I am. I’m so sorry, Simon.)

Crowley, I’m a mess.

I put the flame out because I don’t actually want to die – I just feel wretched. And because I can feel my eyes pricking with tears and it’s hard to keep a fire going when you’re weeping.

I want to press my face into the pillow, hide – even though there’s no one here to see me – but the pillow is Snow’s. It smells like him.

This whole bed smells like him. It’s torment. If I tilt my head down, I can even smell the sharp tang of his semen. I didn’t spell it away when I had the opportunity, and now I’m haunted by it.

And the knowledge that I made him come like that. That I had sex with Simon Snow. (I wanked him to orgasm while I fucked him from behind.)

And the knowledge that he didn’t want to. He didn’t want me. And I made him come anyway.

Snow tried to tell me it wasn’t my fault, before I sent him away. He even tried to tell me he was the one to blame.

_“That’s how the magic works, Baz! You couldn’t help yourself.”_

But I could have.

I know I could have. I could have insisted on a new roommate months ago. (I know Snow’s tried, but not with the force of the Old Families behind him.) I could have dropped out of school.

I know how tenuous my control gets sometimes, even when I’m feeling normal. When I’m not under a spell.

I lie in bed and ache for Simon Snow every night – to kiss me, or let me bite him, or just to tell me that he doesn’t hate me and I’m not as bad as I think I am. I’ve thought about sinking my teeth into him while he slept. I’ve had to take myself off to the catacombs. I’ve had to lock myself in the shower and masturbate to the thought of him, just so I can get to sleep.

I should have seen it coming, even if Snow’s right – I probably _couldn’t_ have stopped myself this morning. That’s one of the few things keeping me sane right now. At least it was magic that made me do it, rather than depraved lust.

Although Snow _knows_ now.

He knows what the amulet does. He knows it doesn’t make you do anything you don’t want to do. He knows I did it because I wanted him.

He’s barely told me anything yet about what happened, but it’s enough that I can piece it all together.

He got back late after adventuring with Bunce. He didn’t shower – although he should have – he just fell into bed. At some point, I woke up – probably because of all the blood I could smell all over him – and then I couldn’t get back to sleep because our room was so fucking bright. Something – clearly the amulet – was glowing on the floor near Snow’s bag and I could see it even through my eyelids.

Snow, of course, was asleep through all of this. I remember being worried for him (because of all the blood) and furious at the temptation he’d made of himself (because of the blood; and because he wasn’t wearing a shirt), and I remember channelling all of that frustration into something I naïvely thought I could deal with – the fucking light.

I pulled the amulet out of Snow’s bag, intending to lock it in my wardrobe or something. I didn’t do that, though. Because instead I looked down at Simon Snow, sleeping, shirtless, his freckled skin slashed through with welts of dark _Simony_ blood, and I couldn’t think of a reason not to lick it off him.

I knew Snow would object, but I did it anyway. 

And then when he started to react, when his cock started filling beneath me, I couldn’t think of a reason not to put that in my mouth either. Clearly, he wanted me. Clearly, I was giving him what he needed. I was taking care of him. I was making him happy.

That’s what I thought, anyway. Even as Snow tried to push me off him. Even as he reminded me he was straight and dating someone else. 

Crowley, and I sent his fucking girlfriend a note that I think said something like: _You and Simon are wrong for each other and everyone knows it. He wants to break up with you. Accept it._

Though I suppose, since I didn’t disguise my handwriting, Snow can just tell the truth which is that it’s another pathetic attempt by his roommate to destroy his relationship. Then they can get back together and live their perfect future together.

Or whatever kind of future they can manage, because they _are_ wrong for each other. And he really _could_ do better. Although when I was under the spell I assumed that would be me – that _I’d_ be better for him – and now I know that couldn’t be further from the truth.

I’d destroy him, like I’ve destroyed myself.

My eyes are stinging again. I’m probably about to start crying – I only manage to stop when I hear Snow’s footsteps on the stairs outside. I never let him see me cry and I’m not starting now.

I wipe my face and sit up with as much dignity as I can. I’m glaring at Snow as he pushes through our bedroom door, juggling a tray between his hands. He stops at the threshold.

“Is it all right for me to be here?”

I scowl harder. “I’m not going to ravage you, Snow.”

Not again, anyway.

“I know,” he says, which hurts even though it shouldn’t. “I just, wasn’t sure if it was all right. Or if you still didn’t want to see me.”

“I _never_ want to see you,” I clarify. The lie hangs heavily between us. “Though you can come in if you’re going to unchain me.”

“Right.”

He crosses to his desk and deposits the tray (it has _two_ mugs on it, but that probably doesn’t mean anything – Snow can easily drink two cups of tea himself). He takes my wand out of his joggers and passes it to me.

Then, because I’m on his bed, he sits on _mine;_ cradling one of the cups of tea in his hands as he watches me spell myself free.

“Sorry about that,” he says awkwardly. “I just, it felt like you wanted to be alone. But I didn’t want you to go and be alone in the Wood or anything, because, well. It’s raining. And I was thinking we should probably talk.”

I flex my wrist, not meeting his eyes.

“What about? My expulsion? How they’re going to pull my fangs out? Or are you planning on pressing charges? Should I talk to my lawyer?”

“You don’t have a lawyer.”

“Of course I do.”

“Well, I’m not pressing charges,” Snow says firmly. “I told you it was my fault – you never do that normally. And I don’t think it would be a very good start to our relationship if you were in prison.”

I blink at him. “ _What_ relationship?”

Now it’s Snow’s turn to look surprised.

“You told me I should be with someone who was good to me, and then you told me _you_ were going to be good to me. I thought that was you asking me out.”

I stare at him.

(That’s exactly what it was. I’m just surprised he noticed. And even more surprised that he’d bring it up.)

“I’m saying yes,” Snow prompts. “In case that’s not obvious. I’d like to go out with you. I like you.”

“But …”

Crowley, there are so many ways I could finish that sentence. I settle for the worst one.

“Simon, I bit you.”

I say it so quietly that I’m not sure he’ll even hear it. (Unless he’s a vampire already, of course. At which point he’ll hear it just _fine._ ) But apparently, he does.

He nods. “It’s all right, though. The Mage says I won’t turn into a vampire unless I bite you back.”

I feel my heart drop. “You told him?”

“No, I didn’t want him to hurt you,” Snow says – which makes my heart flop in a different, more confusing way. “I just did my usual whinge about how much I hate living with you and how I think you’re going to bite me during the night.”

“Which I did.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t tell him that. I just said that even if the Anathema worked, if you bit me, I’d still be a vampire, so he should give me a new roommate. And he said you weren’t a vampire, but if you were I’d be all right as long as I didn’t bite you back because that’s how people get made into vampires.”

I didn’t know that.

It might not be true, obviously, but Simon still looks as ripe and rosy as ever beneath his freckles. He still smells the same. Perhaps the change takes time, but perhaps it doesn’t. Perhaps he’s really okay.

“I didn’t know that,” I tell Simon quietly.

“Now you do,” he says.

He hands me the second mug of tea and I clutch it between my hands, trying not to cry again. Snow tactfully averts his eyes and keeps talking to cover the silence.

“I also asked him if there was any way anyone could _ever_ get around the Anathema without being expelled. Said I’d heard about it happening. He said the only time he could possibly think of was a fight club in the nineties. People wanting to get hurt. Also not relevant to me, apparently, unless I was stupid enough to ask you to hit me.”

I look up at him.

“What’re you saying?”

“That I liked everything you did to me,” Simon says. “Even the biting. And you’re not expelled. Or going to prison.”

“And, for some reason, you want to be my boyfriend.”

“Yeah,” Simon says. “You made it sound really good.”

He smiles hopefully at me. I frown down at my teacup, my vision blurring again.

“I don’t know what to say.”

“Yes, you do,” Simon says. “What d’you think you’d say if you were still under that spell from earlier?”

“I probably wouldn’t say anything,” I tell him honestly. “I’d probably just kiss you.”

“So, why not do that then?” he says softly.

There are reasons. Lots of them.

The war. The expectations on both of us. The fact that we still don’t really know whether Simon’s been Turned (although it seems unlikely) and therefore how angry he should be. The fact that I’m still naked under all these blankets and he’s half-way across the room. That he deserves better than me.

I probably shouldn’t do it.

But I do – I do – and Simon pulls me down with him into the bed.

**Author's Note:**

> I posted two fics today. The other one is: [Silk & Velvet](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29427366) (about Baz in a corset).
> 
> After this flurry of activity, I'll be silent for a while, but I'm all right! I'm just participating in [Anon Fest](https://carryon-anon-fest.tumblr.com/). 
> 
> I'm on Tumblr: [@captain-aralias](http://captain-aralias.tumblr.com/)


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